


nocturno

by lyuyu



Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: M/M, a very self-indulgent look into june and adam's first kiss, so gross fluff and june being dramatically romantic in arabic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27758263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyuyu/pseuds/lyuyu
Summary: he is beautiful; the moon
Relationships: Male Detective/Adam du Mortain
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	nocturno

Junaid has him cornered by the door of his apartment; he’s left Adam with space next to nonexistent to _overthink_.

Adam wants to reach for him, with these greedy hands of his that flex on his sides, to rob him blind of all of his affections and to keep them as his own, his little secret—or theirs, he doesn’t care for correct labels now—as long as they are _his_.

The stiff fabric of his coat feels so constricting now, when Junaid is so closely in his space, as though the cloth offends him and his need to feel the warmth that radiates from Junaid’s skin onto his own (or would, were it not for the coat,) and while one part of Adam wants to so desperately rid it to bask in this proximity, another is so utterly terrified of simply _feeling_ that the raging conflict freezes him in place.

He always insisted that he’d never been uncertain in his life, but in this moment he finds himself hesitating (doubting, _uncertain_ ); and Junaid is a complication, a torture, distraction, and Adam has never wanted to drown himself in sweet oblivion as badly as he does now.

When Junaid brushes the back of his fingers against his cheek, his first instinct is to flinch. To falter, with a hitched breath, and Adam is too aware of the flush creeping up his neck (and he can’t help it— _shit_ , he _can’t_ help it—what he does to him with a touch as innocent as this, is something wildly beyond Adam’s own understanding.)

For a split second, he comes to _think_ of it—how easily Junaid could kiss him breathless. How easily Adam’s end could come in his gentle hands, by the soft tips of his fingers pressed against his skin. How easy, how _devastatingly_ easy, it would be for Junaid to make him crumble into irreparable pieces.

Adam wants to hate himself for becoming— _this_ , this something he does not have a word for, but despises, or would, if it weren’t all because of _him_ —and a cautious thought sneaks its way into the back of his mind, a hope, or a dream, of June.

_(—_ of _his_ )June, who touches him so carefully yet freely, never afraid of him, of who or what he is, always so willing to take it all with open arms and embrace it, so unconditionally, so ardently, Junaid never left any room for Adam to question his feelings; he laid them out on open display for all to see, but first and foremost, June revealed the depths of his heart to _him_.

Just like he does now, as a gentle touch against his cheek, as fingertips tracing the sharp edge of Adam’s jawline, as a hand settling to cup the back of his neck.

“June,” he whispers, voice caught and held hostage, the name comes out as mere shallow breath.

“Adam,” Junaid murmurs his own name in return, and Adam loses himself in the darkness of his gaze, into the low purr of his voice. “ _Ya helo_ , you’re more gorgeous than any miracle this world holds.”

His mouth comes to hover over Adam’s, so close yet so far, and he can’t breathe, his heart pounds in his chest so hard the beat of it is deafening—with every word Junaid speaks (none of them caught by his hearing, he’s too—out of it. Too dazed, too dizzy,) his lips brush lightly against his, such a drunken feeling that sends shivers down his spine and rattles him so thoroughly.

For a millennium, he has not craved. Has not yearned, not needed, nothing, and now, Adam is nothing if not deprived, and he finds himself in such an unorthodox predicament; he _wants_ to be held. He _wants_ to be kissed. Felt. Touched. _Taken_. All of it, everything, at once. (So greedy he wants to _rob._ )

And so, Adam comes to a decision, an action he has not wanted, not craved, not needed, _nothing_ , for almost a thousand years.

He closes those inches left between them, catches June’s mouth with his own, almost frightened of the white-hot wildfire rush it sends through his veins. Burns him from within, and he lets it; June’s lips are velvety and become heavy and scorching hot on his so quickly, he kisses Adam with a longing so profound it draws a soft moan out of him, forces him to lean deeper into it before he ever could resist doing so.

His hands wind up in the raven-black curls of June’s hair, pulls him tighter against him; Adam could never, ever let him go now, his hold of him gentle but firm, as though scared that if he now were to release him, June would disappear, or worse, wake up from whatever has overcome him, and regret this, regret _him_ , yet the insistence that pours from him in swallowing waves proves otherwise—he is, if not as much, then even more, desperate to hold on than Adam is.

His sharp canines scrape against June’s lips, leaves them swollen and bruised and vibrant burgundy, but he doesn’t mind, neither one of them does, they’re busy leaving each other lightheaded and fainthearted and so absolutely intoxicated, breaths labored, June’s hands sneaking under the damned coat to hold Adam’s waist and pull him fast against him.

Only at the last second, when Junaid _must_ (doesn’t want to, hates to) break away to draw a much needed breath, he leans his forehead against Adam’s, and whispers softly, “ _Adam_ , ya amar, I love you.”

(Reminds him, of how he once called him _everything_ , and now, he is _beautiful_ , he is _the_ _moon_.)

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr @lyuyu :)


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